


The Lightest Halloween

by narcissablaxk



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic!Oswald, Halloween, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Robin (Stephanie Brown), homophobia mention, speech therapy, trick or treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Oswald struggles with Halloween ever since he lost his mother. But when Martin wants to dress up, he and Victor decide that perhaps giving Halloween another shot would be the best for them both.





	The Lightest Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! As a note, Martin's friend in this fic is Stephanie Brown, who grows up to become Robin. Obviously, the timing might not work out exactly, but I wanted to make sure Martin's friend was someone from the Gotham-verse.

When Oswald was young, he adored Halloween. His mother made him extravagant costumes (albeit out of found fabrics and thread) and he was allowed to wear makeup, wear platform boots, wear anything he wanted. Halloween was the time of year where Oswald could shed the skin of who he was supposed to be in favor of his true skin. 

With his mother gone, Halloween was nothing but a hollow shell of memories. He preferred to spend the day in his home, surrounded by molding keepsakes, drunk enough that he didn’t remember the day until it was too late to brood on it. That had been his reality for the past few years, and he didn’t mind it; at least, he didn’t mind it any more than he did the absence of his mother, his father, Edward, and everyone else. 

But two days before Halloween, Martin came home from school (a private one on the Upper West Side of Gotham, discreet with high security) and held up his notepad, where he had scribbled, “I want to be a mime for Halloween. Can I, Papa?” 

Oswald read the two statements once, twice, and a third time before he shook his head. “My boy, we never celebrate Halloween. Why would you want to start now?” 

Martin flipped the page on his notebook and wrote speedily, “Because my friend is going to a Trunks and Treats and invited me to go.” 

A friend? Martin had never mentioned a friend. In fact, part of the reason Oswald related so heavily to the boy when they first met was because he had no friends. “A friend?” he asked. “Why haven’t you told me about this friend?” 

Martin abandoned his notepad for signing. “She’s my partner in speech therapy. Can I go, Papa? Can I, please?” 

As unyielding as Oswald was wont to be, he knew he could not deny the boy an experience that had soothed him so as a child. Still, the thought of celebrating Halloween without his mother was…excruciating. Enough that he could feel the radiating pain in his chest, the knots in his stomach.

“Can you give me until the end of the day to think about it?” Oswald asked. 

Martin nodded happily, tucking his marker into the notebook’s rings and trotted away, leaving Oswald alone. He lingered in his office, the only place in the manor he kept free of personal effects, and thought about the idea of celebrating Halloween for the first time without his mother. 

He didn’t have to dress up for Halloween – Martin was the one who wanted to dress up, and perhaps if he went through the motions of making the boy a costume, he would feel closer to his mother. Maybe it would be – bittersweet instead of just painful. 

Or perhaps he would be miserable for the whole next week and Martin would have a terrible time – 

A horrifying thought stopped him in the midst of his reverie. What if this girl was only pretending to be Martin’s friend? What if she planned to hurt him at this little Trunks and Treats, whatever that was, and this invitation was nothing more than a shallow ruse? It wouldn’t be the first time someone hurt Martin, and certainly not the first time someone forced an outcast into enduring public humiliation for being different. 

He sat in his chair, brooding, trying to figure out how to decipher whether or not Martin would be safe at this little outing. He didn’t know the name of this friend, and he certainly didn’t know where he could find her.

Before he could second-guess himself, he scrambled for the phone and pressed speed dial number two. “Victor,” he hissed into the phone. “Come to my office, I have a job for you.” 

***

“Honestly, Boss, tracking down a little girl is a bit…extreme, even for you,” Zsasz murmured. “You don’t want me to…” Zsasz’s voice trailed off into nothing as an old lady tottered by him on the frigid street. “You know.” 

“I do not want you to kill her,” Oswald sniffed. “I just wanted you to track her down for me. I told you I could handle this part.” 

Zsasz shrugged, the movement bumping his shoulder against Oswald’s. “You seemed a little twitchy on the phone earlier. I figured you might need backup.” 

“I don’t need backup,” Oswald muttered as his cane landed on a patch of slippery concrete. Silently, easily, Victor slipped his hand into the crook of Oswald’s elbow, keeping him steady as they moved beyond the treacherous sidewalk. 

The little girl’s name was Stephanie Brown, and her family’s house was an apartment a few blocks from Martin’s school. It was a modest size, tastefully decorated with a single carved pumpkin on a little stand outside the door. Oswald observed the hallway with sharp eyes, scrutinizing every detail he could find. Most of the apartments had little welcome mats outside the door; one in the corner had a little tray for wet rain or snow boots, empty and wanting. 

The place was, simply put, middle class. Momentarily, he wondered how the family could afford Martin’s school. His paranoia subsided for a moment, long enough that he had a placid smile on his face when Stephanie Brown’s mother answered his knock. 

Victor slid his hand out of Oswald’s arm, settling for the deferent stance he usually adopted in front of other people. Stephanie’s mom didn’t notice, or at least, she pretended not to notice.

“Mr. Cobblepot, do come in,” she stepped aside, showing off a small living room that gave way into a kitchenette and a tiny dining room. There was a trio of decorative plastic gourds on the dining table. “Would you like to meet Stephanie?” 

Oswald, completely caught off-guard by the niceties, stumbled over the question. “Um, well –”

“If you don’t mind,” Victor supplied helpfully, his hand landing on the small of Oswald’s back.

“Of course,” the woman answered. “I’m Bonnie, by the way. Bonnie Brown.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Oswald called as Bonnie slipped into a narrow hallway to call her daughter into the room. “Thank you,” he mumbled in Victor’s direction. He patted Oswald on the knee once and retracted his hand when Bonnie came into the room, this time trailed by a diminutive girl with strawberry blonde hair. 

“This is Stephanie,” Bonnie said. “Stephanie, can you say hello to Mr. Cobblepot and Mr. –”

“Zsasz,” Victor replied. 

“H-h-hello, Mr. Cobblepot and Mr. Z-z-z-” her brow furrowed, trying to form the rest of his name. Bonnie didn’t say anything, but let her daughter try, an encouraging smile on her face. Victor’s gaze slipped over to Oswald’s for a second, and he gave him a shallow nod.

“You can call me Victor, if it helps,” he said.

“Mr. Victor,” Stephanie finished with a sigh. 

“Mr. Cobblepot is here to ask you about the Trunks and Treats you invited Martin to,” Bonnie told her daughter, who grinned.

“Martin is my b-b-best friend,” she stammered quickly, the stutter almost gone when she was excited. “He doesn’t make fun of me, like the others do.” 

Oswald smiled. “Martin is a very kind boy to people who are kind to him,” he said conspiratorially, as if he was sharing a secret. “He told me he wanted to dress up as a mime.” 

“That way, p-p-p-people don’t make fun of us for not talking,” Stephanie said ruefully as her mother tutted behind her. 

“Sweetie, anyone who makes fun of you is going to have to answer to me, I told you that,” she said firmly. 

“M-mom,” Stephanie whined, and Victor stifled a chuckle beside Oswald.

Oswald smirked at her. “I tell Martin the same thing.” 

“It’s been really hard,” Bonnie said, reaching over and petting her daughter’s long hair. “With Stephanie’s father in prison and her scholarship money covering only the bare minimum, we weren’t sure she was going to be able to stay in speech therapy, but,” she paused, and Oswald had the uncomfortable feeling that she was trying not to cry, “but she made a friend in Martin, so we want to make sure that she gets to, you know, keep that friendship.” 

“Well, Martin seems very happy, so I don’t see why this friendship can’t continue,” Oswald directed the statement at Stephanie, who grinned widely. “Now, tell me about this Trunks and Treats event.” 

“Oh,” Bonnie wiped at her eye discreetly and straightened up. “It’s a way for kids to trick or treat safely without being on the street. Every year the PTA puts together a little section of the park and have the kids trick or treat there. Sometimes they park their cars and open their trunks, hence the name. They get safe candy from reliable people, and the kids are all contained.” 

“That sounds exactly like something Oswald would love,” Victor said, smiling over at him. “He’s very protective of Martin.” 

Bonnie mirrored his smile. “We are all protective of our children, aren’t we? And, if I may say, it is so nice to see such a loving, caring couple who love their son.” 

Oswald froze, his eyes darting over to Victor for a moment. “Oh, we aren’t –”

“There’s just something about that little boy that makes our lives feel complete,” Victor interrupted, standing up. “What time should we have Martin meet you and Stephanie at the park?” 

***

“She thought we were a couple,” Oswald hissed, eyeing the piece of sidewalk he tripped on before so he wouldn’t need Victor’s hand again. 

Victor sighed, easily keeping pace with Oswald’s hurried walk. “And what’s so wrong about that?” 

“It’s – it’s just –” Oswald stammered, trying to form words to explain exactly why the sentiment unsettled him. Victor watched him, the benevolent man who helped out the stuttering little girl gone. Instead, a calculated deadpan face stared back at him. “We aren’t.” 

“Is that what you’re upset about?” he asked. “That we aren’t a couple? Or is it that she assumed you were gay?” 

Oswald didn’t answer, but kept his eyes on the sidewalk, trying to keep Victor out of his line of sight. Truthfully, the part that unsettled him the most was that Bonnie didn’t seem at all put off by the idea of him and Victor as a couple – he wasn’t used to anyone having a positive reaction to his dating habits. 

“Or is the issue that she thought you were dating me?” 

“That’s not it,” Oswald replied hastily. “It’s – the issue – the problem is entirely a problem with myself, not with you.” 

Victor narrowed his eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. 

“Can we just forget that I reacted horribly?” Oswald asked. “Just rewind for a few minutes? Would you like to come to this Trunks and Treats with me and Martin?” 

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Boss,” Victor pointed out. “What if people think we’re dating?” 

“Then we make it a date, and circumvent all of the rumors with truth,” Oswald shrugged. 

Victor raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” Oswald all but snapped. “Don’t want to go on a date with your boss?” 

Victor lifted one shoulder and smiled. “I’m just surprised that after working for you all the time, you can still surprise me.” 

***

The day before Halloween flew by in a flurry of fabrics, a new sewing machine that took Oswald longer than he’d like to admit to figure out, and makeup tests. Martin was practically bouncing with excitement, so much so that Oswald had to re-measure him several times to make sure his little cape was going to be the right length. 

The day dawned crisp and sunny, and Oswald felt the familiar weight of the day on his chest when he woke up. He considered, for a long few moments, staying in bed the whole day, letting Bonnie watch Martin like she offered to. But Martin knocked on his door, peeking in with a grin, and Oswald pulled himself out of the covers and trudged downstairs. 

“Cream in your coffee?” Victor’s voice was soft, but Oswald jumped all the same. “I came by to make sure you were going to get out of bed,” he explained, pouring some cream in the coffee and passing it into Oswald’s hands. “I know how Halloween gets.” 

Oswald didn’t answer, but took the seat beside Victor, Martin across from them both. He watched as the boy devoured eggs, bacon, and toast, his little orange juice glass untouched until all of his food was gone. Carefully, he picked up the plate and took it into the kitchen to Olga, signing out a “thank you,” and trotting back upstairs, leaving Victor and Oswald alone. 

“How did you know?” Oswald asked. “About Halloween.” 

Victor, beside him, shrugged. “I’ve been working for you for years, Boss. It’s my job to notice things.” 

“You realized that Halloween is hard for me because it’s your job?” Oswald asked, stirring his coffee absently. 

Victor reached over Oswald’s plate, grabbed another piece of toast, and deposited it on Oswald’s plate, raising his eyebrow at him. It was unsaid but obvious that Oswald was meant to eat it. “I noticed that you were usually quiet over Halloween, and you would send your staff away. Last year, you didn’t dismiss us exactly, so I was still here, keeping watch on the house. That was around the time of…Edward –”

“I remember,” Oswald interrupted. 

“You were sad,” Victor continued slowly. “And I went out and got you a couple of bottles of that red wine you like, and that seemed to make you happy. Usually, all I have to do to make you happy is bring you the person who is upsetting you, or follow your orders. That day, I had to work hard to make you smile, even for a moment. I’m not used to working that hard for a smile.

“My mother made Halloween fun every year,” Oswald said quietly. “And then…when she died –”

“I get it,” Victor replied. “I figured there was a good reason when you didn’t get excited about dressing up for Halloween. You’re definitely a Halloween guy.” 

Oswald raised his eyebrows. “And what does that mean?” he asked, feeling the mood in the room lighten. 

“Come on, Boss, we all know you’re a costume kind of guy,” Victor said with a laugh. “I bet you used to go all out on Halloween.” 

Oswald grinned. “I did,” he admitted. 

Victor’s hand landed on his leg, long enough for his thumb to brush a quick sweep over the top of his thigh, before he retracted it. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say it, because I might have picked up a costume for you to wear tonight.” 

Oswald, still focused on the weight of Victor’s hand on his leg, blinked. “Wait, you did what?” 

“I went to your favorite tailor in the city and asked him to help me get you a costume that you’d like,” he confessed. “I figured if you didn’t want to dress up, he’d probably make you something you could wear for some richy-rich event you’re always going to.” 

“Is that how you see all of my events?” Oswald asked with a laugh. 

“Richy-rich?” Victor repeated. “Absolutely. That’s what they are.” 

“They’re important!”

“You can do important things without seven course meals and butlers,” Victor teased, rising from his seat and collecting his empty plate, putting it on top of Martin’s on the counter in the kitchen. 

“But what’s the fun in that?” Oswald asked. “You get to get dressed up, wear a nice suit –”

“I happen to like dressed-down Oswald just as much as the one who wears tailored suits,” Victor replied, his hand brushing the collar of Oswald’s robe. They were just close enough that Oswald could feel Victor’s breath ghosting over his cheek, his hand barely holding onto the satin collar. 

“Would it completely ruin the mood if I said this robe is tailored, too?” he whispered, his hands on either side of Victor’s hips. 

“Yes, yes it would,” Victor replied, the laughter in his voice just barely tempered by their close proximity. “But I forgive you.” 

Oswald wondered, in that anxious, obsessive way he was wont to do, if Victor had been this interested in him before Stephanie’s mother assumed they were a couple. Oswald hadn’t noticed any sort of special treatment, though Victor had been loyal to him since Falcone had assigned him to watch over him, back when Oswald first acquired Fish’s club. 

They were still standing so close, noses almost but not quite brushing, Victor still enough that it seemed he was allowing Oswald to take his time, to move at his own pace. It was as maddening as it was sweet, and that acknowledgement quieted his chattering mind. He smiled, just a slight quirk of his lips, and Victor tilted his head to get a better look at it, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. 

It didn’t matter if Victor had cared about him before yesterday, Oswald rationalized as he leaned in, allowing his nose to just brush Victor’s. It had been so long since he had been kissed, been held, been cared for. Did the timetable really matter? 

But even as he leaned in, Victor was pulling away, his eyes on something behind Oswald. Trying to shrug off the sting of rejection, Oswald followed his gaze to…Martin, dressed in his uniform, holding his little backpack. 

“Ready to go to school, buddy?” Victor asked, his hand dropping to Oswald’s and squeezing for a moment. 

***

Trunks and Treats started right at dusk, and the sunset was shooting orange and pink overhead, like cotton candy. Oswald felt the bittersweet sting of a beautiful day as he clung to Martin’s hand, trying not to think too much about his mother. But in a lightening second, Martin was pulling his hand away and running toward Stephanie, happily signing at her, and Oswald was left alone. 

As soon as his hand was left wanting, Victor slipped his own into it, their fingers loosely tangled together, just so that they could separate them if they wanted. Oswald smiled as he looked on at Martin, happily locked arms with Stephanie. Bonnie, beside her daughter, glanced up and met his gaze, waving and giving his costume a thumbs-up. 

He had been hesitant about wearing a costume, but as he unzipped the garment bag a few hours earlier, he was immediately entranced by the silk, the sheer, the fashionable. 

Victor had gotten him a Morticia Addams costume, altered and shifted by his favorite tailor. The dress had been turned into tight pants, the top open with sheer sleeves, the silk luxurious and soft. He had a red streak in his hair to accommodate for her red lipstick, and winged eyeliner that even Victor had approved of. Instead of his cane, Victor gifted him a black matte leg brace that almost blended into his pants. 

It was over the top, it was editorial, it was – in a word – perfect. 

“Do you like it?” he had bashfully asked Victor, who he caught trying to draw on his Gomez mustache in the hallway mirror. Victor didn’t answer, but let his eyes rake over him, a smile blooming on his face, smudging his mustache. 

“Your costumes are so perfect,” Bonnie gushed, passing them both goodie bags full of candy. “Thank you again for letting Martin come to this.” 

“It was no problem, really,” Oswald answered. “In fact, I have a bit of a surprise for Stephanie, for being such a good friend to Martin.” 

“You do?” Bonnie and Victor asked simultaneously. 

“I spoke to the principal today, before we came here, and as long as you want Stephanie to be in speech therapy, it will be paid for,” Oswald said. “You work so hard for your daughter, and circumstances have been against you. I kind of know how that feels, and it’s not enjoyable. I don’t want you to have to live with that hanging over your head.” 

“Mr. Cobblepot –”

“Oswald, please.”

“Oswald,” Bonnie breathed, trying to blink her tears back into her eyes. “I – I can’t accept this –”

“Well, you have to,” Oswald insisted. “Because I already did it. No take-backs.” 

Bonnie regarded him curiously, trying to find another way to refuse, to be polite, but came up empty. Instead, she launched herself toward Oswald and hugged him, tears evident now that no one could see her. Generally uncomfortable with hugs from relative strangers, Oswald patted her on the back, his eyes wide. 

“Thank you, so much,” Bonnie said, pulling away and wiping her eyes. “Stephanie will be so happy.” 

“She deserves it,” Victor intoned. “And so do you.” Bonnie nodded absently, her eyes searching for her daughter, and she trotted after the little girl, leaving them alone again. 

“I cannot believe you did that,” Victor said. 

“Are you mad about it?” Oswald asked. 

Victor laughed. “Of course not! I just – I don’t know where you found the time.” 

“You’ll notice it took me longer to get dressed than usual,” Oswald shrugged. “I was on the phone with the principal the whole time.” He threaded his fingers through Victor’s again, this time firmer than before. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me this Halloween.” 

“It was not a problem –”

“It was, though,” Oswald insisted. “It was. Because I was…I was horrible to you when Bonnie thought we were dating –”

“We don’t have to –”

“The only other people I’ve ever cared about…in that way…did not reciprocate my feelings, or they were downright horrible about it,” Oswald said in a rush, his eyes on Victor’s lapels. “My whole life, people were snide about my sexuality. And then when I finally told someone I loved him…he shot me and dumped me in the river.” 

“I can still kill him if you want.” 

“I’ve always been very hesitant about getting involved in…anything since then,” Oswald continued. “And that hesitation, and my reaction the other day…it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.” 

Victor nodded, his eyes on their combined hands. “If what we’re doing makes you nervous, or uncomfortable, I can back off,” he said. “I can give you time.” 

“If I need it, I’ll let you know,” Oswald replied. “But for now, I like what we’re doing.” 

Victor grinned, pressing a soft kiss to Oswald’s cheek before releasing his hand to go chasing after Martin, who was making faces at him from behind Bonnie’s legs. Oswald watched him go, a soft smile on his face. For the first time in a while, Halloween stung a little less.


End file.
